


do not go gentle into that goodnight

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [20]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, F/M, Organized Crime, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days after the party at Vriska's, Nepeta finds herself on the run and has to come to a choice about the path her life has taken. </p><p>Takes place after "come as you are".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. on the run

**Author's Note:**

> "And you, my father, there on that sad height,  
> Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  
> Do not go gentle into that good night.  
> Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
> 
> Dylan Thomas

**=== > Be the cat burglar...on the run**

 

You are Nepeta and okay, this was _not_ your best work. Well, that was a given as you had been caught and were now hoofing it (ironic horse pun as you were running from two bluebloods) from the police. Yes, that usually indicated you were having more or less an _off_ night. It didn't help that you took Nitram's advice to hit a place in an area you were in no way familiar with. You’re running blind (more or less) around the inner city of New Jack when it’d probably be safer going with the police.

 

Every trailer kid knew the stories of the inner city. It was a place where the unwise could quickly vanish into an alleyway. It was the home turf of the bigger crime families and the kids generally looked down their noses at any sort of “trailer trash” despite being just as poor. At school, there were inner city kids that got kicked out of their local schools and have to go to yours and every single one seemed to have a big chip out of their shoulders. There were horror stories of cars being broken into if only to get personal information of where a person lived so they could be robbed blind.

 

And the urban legends of the inner city tallied on the hundreds. The one that had always made your skin crawl was the crime boss who was found baked into a cake by a bakery worker one morning.  Or there was the story of the Crier—a seatroll ghost who wandered the street, asking for her grub and appearing as if every bone in her body was broken and mangled. Supposedly, she had committed suicide after selling her egg.

 

You push those thoughts out of your mind. Not the time to dwell on the inner city ghosts and legends. First, you need to lose these cops. You nimbly jump trashcans and homeless. You vault dumpsters and take as many twist and turns until you let out a curse, hitting a dead end. You can hear the panting of the cops. Damn it, the NJPD here are more tenacious than the ones on your side of the city. You look around quickly before spotting a fire escape. You grin and easily leap, grabbing the bottom bar and pulling yourself up. Quickly you climb up it to the roof and throw yourself flat against the roof, holding your breath and cocking your ears to listen as the police skid into the dead-end. You listen carefully. You hear them curse and then eventually leave and only then do you heave a sigh and sit up, wiping sweat from your brow. That was close. Too close but you eventually got away. Now you just had to find a street, call up the doofus clown to pick you up, and give Nitram a piece of your mind. An easy hit your glute! The place had enough hidden cameras to be the Zahhak trailer!

You move to the roof entrance to the roof of the apartment building and descended the stairwell. It smells like drugs, piss, and rotting eggs. The latter scent meaning someone was clearly cooking something illegal. You step over piles of rubbish left on the stairs, one pile looking to be comprised of a few used condoms and some needles you are pretty sure were used for shooting soporin. You feel sick and rush down the stairs a little more quickly, gasping in the “fresh air” of New Jack after escaping the apartment building. The smell of smog, car fumes, and burnt rubber is like springtime fresh laundry compared to the smells in the stairwell.

Three days into summer and this is how yours is beginning: running through the inner city avoiding the cops.

You make your way through the streets, which are filled with cars. There are a lot of people out, wandering about, talking in groups, a few slinking into alleyways for more shady business. Amusingly, there is a carapacian woman, Nehetalian from her accent, throwing things at a carapacian man and calling him all sorts of nasty names. Well…you guess _some_ things are the same in the inner city as the trailer park.  The street signs here are no help though. Some joker had thought it would be funny to change all the names.

You’re fairly certain the city of New Jack would never name two streets “Bulgesniffer” and “Coochymama”. That and you refused to call up Gamzee and say to pick you up at the corner of those two “streets” and have to endure him snickering about it for months to come. You lean against a lamppost, looking for a bus stop. You already past one because you are pretty sure the people sitting at it were armed to the teeth and looking ready for a gang war. You weren't going to get caught in a crossfire. You could hail a taxi, but you know you didn't have enough for the fare. You sigh and continue walking when your luck just gets worse.

“There she is!”  
  
No. Gods no. What god did you piss off to have the cops chasing you from earlier walk out of a 7-11 with slurpies spot you. What have you done to deserve this sort of shit luck? You break into a run again. Your tired legs are protesting and your lungs are burning. You feel like you are carrying six pounds of extra weight around or something. You used to be more in shape than this! A wasp of a thought buzzes in the back of your thinkpan, trying to say something is wrong, something had to be wrong, but you push it away. Nothing’s wrong. You are just fine. You _have_ to be fine. 

You keep running headlong, panting, cutting into an alleyway, just trying to lose them.... when an arm shoots out of the shadows and yanks you into the doorway of a building. A large hand covers your mouth. You tense, eyes wide in terror. You struggle a bit but a loud growl in your ear makes you think twice. Whoever has you is clearly a purpleblood and big enough to break you in half. You mentally kick yourself for dropping your guard so much you let a damned clown purpleblood get the drop on you. The two cops run by without even seeing you in the shadows, no doubt their sunglasses making whatever little night vision they have void.

After the pounding of their feet fades, your captor lets you go and turns you around. Your eyes widen.

“...Dad...?” You don't mean for your voice to squeak in fear but oh, does it.

It’s your father, wearing city garb, eyes narrowed in a look of disapproval. His mouth is set in a thin line and he is wearing the thick paint of a Brotherhood troll. Your eyes widen even more. Your mother hmentioned your father had...taken to wearing the paint again but you had brushed her off. Seems her huffing and growling hadn't been horseshit after all.

<<WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE NEPETA?>> he signs, eyes narrowed. Even his sign language seems more agitated and angry somehow.

“Ah, nothing. Just out for a stroll,” You lie with a smile. Yes. Out for a stroll in the most dangerous part of the city, enjoying the scenery of urban decay and drug dealings while taking in the scent of rotting garbage and dirty hobos. Yes, he is _soooo_ going to believe that.

<<SURE. AND I'M A MOTHERFUCKING MUTANT BLOOD. THE POLICE DON'T CHASE PEOPLE AROUND THE CITY FOR THEIR FUCKING HEALTH.>> he signs, scowling more. You see the barest hint of fangs and you swallow hard. Oh yes. Your father is not happy.

Time to employ the cute kitten defense.

You work your lower lip into a quivering pout, making sure your get your eyes big and bring your hands up under your chin. You lightly paw at your father whimpering, “I'm _soooorrry,_ Dad. I'll be _goood_. It was just one slip. Gamzee put me up to it....”

He glares for a few more seconds before letting out a sigh and running his hand through his hair. Success. No one can resist the cute kitten defense. No one. He eventually grabs you by the shoulder and leads you down the alleyway.

<<OH I'M _SURE_ HE DID NEPETA. I CAN'T EVEN FORCE YOU TO DO HOUSEWORK, LET ALONE GAMZEE FORCING YOU TO DO ANYTHING. >> he signs with a roll of his eyes, <<COME ON. IT IS TOO DANGEROUS TO BE ALONE OUT HERE>>

You huff and are about to argue that you can take care of yourself but then he turns on the “Angry Dad” look. You quickly fall back into the meek persona of “Cute Kitten” and cuddle up to his side, “Ohhhkay daddy. I'll be _puuurrrfect_ ,”

He just gives a low sigh and a roll of his eyes. You keep quiet as he leads you through the maze of alleyways. Clearly he isn't lost like you are. You come out in front of a warehouse. He knocks on the door. A slit opens and a pair of eyes peer through before the slit closes and the door opens...and...oh lord. Your father is _definitely_ in with the Brotherhood again. You know a gang lair when you see one and this is a top of the line one. Guns and various weapons line an entire wall, a couple of fridges no doubt filled with Faygo or stolen organs(It isn't uncommon for some people to wake up in back alleys down an organ in the inner city; especially tourists who get lost in the urban sprawl). You are counting about a dozen purplebloods lounging around and every single one of them wearing face paint.

A gangly looking one with double horns and wearing purple shades grins wide, standing near the door. He leans in to look at you, “Well ain’t that a cute pussy you dragged in here, Kurloz! I knew you had an oliveblood fetish but _damn_ motherfucker! You are _really_ robbin’ the cradle on this one!”

You could see your father's eye twitch even as this purpleblood leans in with a purr, “So…she available or is she gonna be rockin’ the motherfucking daybed with you tonight?”  
  
Your cheeks are pretty much burning olive as you are left speechless at the audacity of this purpleblood. Its like someone took Sollux and Gamzee, locked them in a room together and this purpleblood is their misbegotten grub. Luckily you didn't have to say anything. Your father lets out an extremely threatening growl and raises a hand slowly to sign, <<PHAXIN? I WOULD LIKE YOU TO MEET MY DAUGHTER. NEPETA.>>

Phaxin blanches, eyes widening a bit. He holds up his hands and quickly backpedals, “Why didn't you say so when you motherfuckin’ came in? I ain’t meaning any disrespect to you or your motherfuckin’ family man! We coolz, we coolz. Shit man; last I saw her she was a motherfuckin’ kit all dressed up for motherfuckin’ church service man! Like realz! She's really grown up and grown out in like... _places_...places I was _so_ not motherfuckin’ lookin’ because man that shit just be disrespectin’ to women!”  
  
“Like you would _know,_ Phaxin, like you would motherfucking know.” a female purpleblood drawls, rolling her eyes. She sits on a couch close nearby.  

“Motherfuckin’ shut it, Thetas,” he growls, shooting a glare at the female who spoke.

The female just smirks and makes a lewd gesture with her tongue, “Make me, Bonedaddy. I'll bend you over and have you backin’ up on me like a truck,”

Okay. You officially like this Thetas. Phaxin grumbles under his breath and quickly slinks away. Your father shakes his head, glancing to the female, <<SHOULD HAVE TRUSTED PHAXIN TO BE, WELL...>>  
  
“To be Phaxin? Brother, he has yellow in his veins. That just has genetically coded to be a motherfucking horndog.” Thetas says with a chuckle.

<<PROBABLY WASN'T A GOOD IDEA TO BRING NEPETA HERE TO LAY LOW IN HINDSIGHT>> your father signs, frowning.

 "Maybe...big boss is calling you in for a…you-know-what tonight,” Thetas says, sitting up a bit.

 You suppress a shiver when you see your father's look grow more dark. He looks calculative and more serious than you've ever seen him. He glances over his shoulder at the other purplebloods before turning back to Thetas. He nudges you towards her. 

  
<<THETAS. COULD YOU DO ME A SOLID AND LOOK AFTER NEPETA UNTIL...I FINISH THE BUISNESS THE BIG BOSS WANTS?>> he signs courteously.

 Thetas gives a nod and a slight smile, “Of course. No biggie. Have to do what I can for a brother right? I was just about to head home myself,”

 You look up at Thetas. She is big. Really big. You've never really seen a female purpleblood until now. She’s easily a foot taller than even your own father. You swallow and offer a nervous smile. Between Thetas and the look your father has on his face, you figure its wise to just go along with this rather than risk your father driving you home and telling your mother everything. The tantrum your mother would throw...you’d be _lucky_ if you saw the light of day by next year from the grounding you would get.

 “...I could've watched her...” you hear Phaxin mumble, which only earns him a glare from both Thetas and Kurloz that quickly makes him shut up again.

 “All right Nepeta. Let’s get going. Your Dad has work to do.” she says.

Thetas puts an arm around you and leads you out the back of the warehouse. Park close to the curb outside is an old beat-up lemon of a hovercar. Its grey with various dents in the side and you’re sure with all the rust on the back the only way it made it past inspection was with bribe money. You see a kitseat in the back accompanied by various Happy Meal toys and grocery receipts.

 You move around to get in the passenger side as Thetas gets in the driver side, “Sorry for the mess. My youngest just don't like motherfucking cleaning up after himself, you know?”

 “You have kids...?” You blurt out. Well duh, she has kids. No one drives around with Happy Meal toys and a kitseat in the back if they didn’t…unless they were one of _those_ people but you like to pretend they don’t exist.

 She chuckles, “Got two. A teal about your age and a kit highblood who's just starting motherfucking kindergarten.”

 “Oh. That's cool...” You say with a smile. This conversation is getting awkward as you try to scramble for something else to talk about.

 Thetas just chuckles, “You are like your motherfucking mother, you know that? She was always shy when it came to talking to people other than Kurloz. Your father had all the motherfucking poise.”

You huff a bit, puffing your cheeks out at the comment. In your mind, you've tried to more or less build up that the only thing in common you had with your mother was blood color and cat tails. You never wanted to admit that you might have a bit more in common with your mother than you like.

The drive is silent for the most part. Thetas seems comfortable with it, sitting back in the driver’s seat listening to some bluegrass music. She didn't live far from the warehouse. Her home is a townhouse squeezed between two other falling apart townhouses. The front door looks battered and one of the windows is boarded up.

“Window’s shot in. Figured blocking it up was safer than buying new glass. I got little ones to worry about you know?” Thetas says when she notices you eyeing up the boarded window.

“...Shot up...?” Your eyes widen a bit.

You'd heard of drive-by shootings. In the trailer park they weren't common unless someone was extremely drunk and running about, trying to shoot all the mailboxes or Grandpa Harley was on “the hunt”. Heck, it was actually pretty peaceful now in the trailer park ever since Grandpa Vantas passed away. At some point the misanthrope had traded his sickle for a shotgun and was not afraid to use it on trespassers, be they troll, human, carapacian, or beast. Everyone knew the stories of Grandpa Vantas and his shotgun—like how he almost shot Grandma Leijon’s tail off when she wanted to talk to him about something, how he shot the Grand Highblood in the ass at some point, how Grandpa Vantas told the police to go fuck themselves and proceeded to shoot their car windows. How Grandpa Vantas didn’t end up rotting away in jail laid in the fact they’d been on his property and Grandma Pyrope was a hell of a lawyer.

You still laugh when people tell you the Signless was a short chubby troll of good will and pacifism. If Grandpa Vantas was the real deal—the _real_ Signless—they were _very_ wrong. The man was one of the tallest trolls among your grandparents. You never understood how Kankri ended up so short and fat. You shake your head. This is neither here nor there. Grandpa Vantas died a long time ago.

You must have been spacing as Thetas is giving you an odd look. “You okay Nep?”

You nod, giving a nervous laugh, “Yeah, just was lost in thought...so why live here if it is so dangerous?”  
  
“Closer to family, friends, and work here. Also cheaper in terms of the rent than a trailer. Close quarters though. Your neighbor is in your living room sometimes with how noisy they are and the cockroaches are probably building an empire below the house and _no_ , I'm _not_ talking about the carapacians.” Thetas says with a chuckle, unlocking her door and stepping in.

The place is very small. The living room is cluttered with toys and a small purpleblood boy is playing with toy soldiers while a tealblood your age is doing homework. Both look up when the door opened.

“Mommy!” The little kit immediately abandons his soldiers and runs up to hug Thetas's leg tightly, purring happily.

The teal sighs and closes their book, “ _Finally_! Thought I would have to watch the midget all night! Can I _go_ now? The guys are going to start a b-ball game!”

Thetas just chuckls and nods to the teal as she picks up the younger troll. “Fine Hector, just be back by twelve or Mama is going to stop paying your iHusk bill,” she says warningly.

The teal, Hector, nods and is out the door like a flash. You blink. Were you...did you talk that way towards your own parents? Thetas just moves to the kitchen, shaking her head, “They grow up so fast...you want anything to drink? Got a motherfucking shit ton of juiceboxes.”  
  
“A juicebox would be fine...” You taking a sit on the living room couch, looking around. Every wall is plastered with pictures of Hector and the little purpleblood growing up. Thetas comes back with a juicebox; the kit purpleblood already slurping one down and purring happily. The kit looks to have large purpleblood horns, a sign of purity in bloodlineage. Most likely, his father was a purpleblood as well.

Thetas hands you the juicebox, a blue one with a happy little cat on it, and smiles, “There you go. You can watch TV if you want. Should take Kurloz only a couple of hours before he finishes up his work to come here.”

You nod and stab the straw into your box, “So...I guess you've known Dad a long time…”

“Grew up with him.  I was motherfucking there when the Brotherhood was founded by old Grandy. He was looking to restart the Subjuggulators, bring a bit of motherfucking pride back to Highbloods, passing on the traditions...when he was motherfucking locked up though, everything changed.”

Thetas pauses, rocking her happy kit lightly, “That’s when Boss Capone took over and the man is a great leader and business man. He was never like motherfucking Kurloz though. Man, if Kurloz hadn't gone to prison, hadn't lost everything from religion to his motherfucking mind, maybe he would be charge of the Brotherhood and we would've been something else...”

She sighs and you look down, feeling a bit guilty. Really you shouldn't feel this way. You didn't personally send your Dad to jail. You were too young to do anything to stop police but still...you still worry about what you could've done to keep your Dad out of prison.

Thetas shrugs, “If fishes were wishes as the seatrolls say.”

She looks over when there is a soft knock at the door. She sets the kit down and moved to answer it. You glance over to see who it is and then do a double-take. At first you think its Tavros but then quickly realize they’re too short, too small and the large horns branch at the end like a cerulean's horns.

The kit smiles up at Thetas and politely says, “Mr. Thetas? Can Achile come out to play?”

Thetas turns her head, “Yo, Achile!” She calls to the kit, “Hercul is here. You motherfucking want to go out?”

Achile sits up and nods eagerly, rushing over, “Yes! _Hercuuuuul_!” The tiny kit squeals, rushing up to his brownblood friend.

The two quickly run while Thetas gives a soft, almost sad smile, “Motherfuck, what a cute pair...”

“Its almost night though…” you mutter. Of course your mother had no choice but to let you run around until she could catch you and drag you back home, but this is the inner city.

Thetas shakes her head. “This is _deep_ Brotherhood territory. Somebody who comes trying to start up shit in here gets full of holes before they’d even get started.” She smriks, “And Hercul’s a tough ‘lil motherfucker.”

“Who’s Hercul...? Neighbor kid? Who are his parents?” you ask, tilting your head.

“He's Droog's kid. Adopted. Dunno who his real parents but kid’s a sweatheart and man, motherfucker is already tough for his age.” Thetas chuckles, “Dad signs him up for all sorts of fighting style classes. Kid wants to be a UFC fighter and shit...he is going to be the motherfucking politest UFC fighter if he makes it!”

Thetas gives a sigh, “And he keeps Achile out of trouble...just wish it would always be that way for him.”

“Why wouldn't it? Hercul moving?” you ask, tilting your head as you finish up your juicebox.

“No, he's a highblood, Nep. He was motherfucking branded trouble the day he was conceived. There ain't no opportunities for highbloods other than to just be good at crime. You don't know how motherfucking lucky you are to be an oliveblood. Fuck, I would trade bloodtypes with you in an instant if it meant I could make an honest motherfucking living...”

You flinch slightly and look down. Gamzee, the clown you hated, often asked why you were in crime with him and why you were so willing to do it. You always thought he was a moron trying to call chicken on you. That because you were an oliveblood you were thus weaker and less tough. Now though...you are starting to see all those big tough gangsters who act like this is the only life they could have. And every one of them would rather be _you_.

“Oh...is it because people all think every purpleblood is violent?” You mumble, feeling awkward, guilty, and a bit ashamed now.

 “No.” Thetas smiles sadly, “ _Every_ highblood is violent Nepeta. We are predators. We motherfucking evolved to be killers, fighters, protectors...on Old Alternia, it was the might of the Subjuggulators that kept the Empire safe. We used to be the arm of the Empire. Now we are the fucking asshole of this city. Now we just wallow until we eventually....snap.”

“Snap? Like…go crazy?"

Thetas sighs, "It is hard to explain hmm....have you ever seen a rabid dog, Nep?"

You nod, arching an eyebrow, "Yeah? See them all about the park....why?"

"Yeah, wild, out of control, mad...that's what happens when a highblood _breaks_ , Nep. And you know what they do to a rabid dog....."

You feel a cold chill go down your spine. Yeah. You know what happens to mad animals and lusii in the park...

Thetas meets your eye with a grim look, "Same motherfucking principle when dealing with a highblood that finally goes off the deep end and Kurloz? He's motherfucking warming up on the diving board..."

You get to your feet then, shaking your head, “My Dad isn't going to go crazy or some shit! He's better than that! That is just a load of defeatist bullshit!”

Thetas doesn't even bat an eye, she doesn't get angry, she just looks at you, “It isn't going crazy. It is snapping. It is motherfucking _millenniums_ of instincts bottled up for so long with no outlet, with no way of getting it out. Trapped, caged, and beat down until the only response is to fight back with all you have. To rip, to tear, to scream until your motherfucking lungs give out, before you go down in a hail of bullets. At least you would've died something... it is why highbloods are motherfucking going extinct Nepta,”

She looks at you still and her eyes are cutting right through you. You don't want her to be right. You want her to jump up, throw confetti and go “psyche!” but she doesn't. Thetas keeps so calm, so sure, so knowing of what she is saying. You just want to run away but her look keeps you rooted to the spot.

“It is why mothers smash their purple eggs. Why mothers sell their purple eggs. Why every youth is put in prison when they do the smallest of offenses. Why we are persecuted. Why we are killed like animals Nepeta. We are motherfucking born for something society never took the time to try and help channel. Kurloz is pressured. He's strong. He won't _want_ motherfucking break. He will want to let it out, take his rage out in the job...Gamzee too. He'll start to flake....makes motherfucking kismesitude dangerous...and every highblood child, every purple egg, inherits this mirthful rage curse.”

You tense, hunching over with a glare, “...what are you implying? How would you know if Gamzee and I were anything?”

“Kurloz said so and I can smell Gamzee’s motherfucking scent all over you, girl...I would _really_ take a pregnancy test. Olivebloods...well it tends to sneak up on you.” she sighs, finally looking away, “You don't have to believe me. If you ain't a highblood, you tend not to... _understand_ it. I just hope that the motherfucker who is trying to bulgetease your dad into kissmesitude lays off or _man_ , he's gonna get hurt in more ways than physical...”

You give a shiver. Of late, Kankri, the now sober Kankri, has been trying to entice your father into pitch feelings. Maybe it is a mutant thing to try and bulgetease your crushes to look at you, like some sort of deranged mating dance. You always thought it was fairly harmless that your father growled or glared at Kankri...

“What is he going to do?” you ask quitely.

Thetas gives a humorless laugh, “The voodoo, Nepeta; the motherfucking voodoo that gets in your motherfucking head and breaks you down. Aggression of the level your father is motherfucking bottling up? It's poisonous.”

You look down and bite your lip, “Is... is there anything I can do to help him...?”

Thetas smiles, “Don't make him worry about you. Worry is stress and stress triggers him. He is only back here really...to make sure you and Gamzee don't get caught up in crime. Girl, once you are in deep with crime, you motherfucking don't get _out_. Only way you'll leave is in a pine box. He doesn't want you throwing away your future.”

You sigh, “But I want to be tough! I'm just not some stupid oliveblood cat-”  
  
“And you are, Nepeta, but motherfucking having to commit crimes doesn't prove that to nobody. Tough is all about attitude, not actions. What made the Grand Highblood frightening and tough wasn't that he motherfucking could rip someone apart, it was how he _carried_ himself. The man exuded self-control, intelligence, and purpose. He could look at a motherfucker and have them looking away. That's tough Nepeta and the Grand Highblood never committed petty crimes in his life.”

You really never thought of it that way. You always thought the “toughest” troll was the biggest, the baddest, and most willing to fight. The Grand Highblood always morel like the boogeyman than a real troll who was related to you.

“Wait...The Grand Highblood is _smart_?” you ask.

Thetas gives you a look, “Motherfucking of course he is! The man is the most articulated speaker I motherfucking met! He only talks like a halfwit street kid now because some motherfuckers claimed he sounded like a fop.” She rolls her eyes, “Man is fucking smart. Kurloz used to complain about having to sit and listen to his father and Dualscar argue about politics, or argue with the Dolorosa over gender binaries or some shit...I don't even know.”

You just stare at her. No. This does not compute. Your thinkpan is probably shorting out as you try to comprehend what she just said. Thetas laughs and shakes her head, leaning back, “Don't think too hard about it, girl, or motherfucking smoke is going to pour out of your ears!”

You give a soft laugh, smiling a bit. Well, Thetas isn't bad. She is friendly but she’s a mother. You sort of wish you had a mother as chill as Thetas and one that didn't freak out about every little thing you did. Thetas pauses when her iHusk goes off.

Sighing she checks it and gives a roll of her eyes, “Phaxin...” She talks into the device, “What do you want motherfucking bone man...? What? For real? Man what is fucking Gamzee thinking?”

Hearing Gamzee’s name puts you immediately on edge. You hate the dumbass clown but he’s still your kismesis. 

“What is wrong with Gamzee...?” you demand, eyes narrowing.

Thetas lowers the iHusk to speak to you, “He's picking a fight with Kurloz. They are just insulting and snarling out a conversation but _oh_ , that won't last. They are going to tussle. It is a motherfucking dominance fight coming up!”

“What!? I need to go!” You are on your feet heading to the door.

Thetas blinks before getting to her feet. She looks conflicted, musing on something before frowning and following you, “Fine, I'll give you a lift. Just let me make sure Achile is looked after. Mama don't leave her kits without a watch,”

You nod and go to the car, slipping into the passenger side as Thetas talks with someone over the phone. After a minute or two, she comes over and gets into the car.

“Only taking you because you got to _see_ a fight, not to stop it,” She says, starting the hovercar.

You open your mouth to protest but she gives you a look. “Highbloods _need_ to fight. Fucking trying to stop it just makes it worse. Sometimes you got to let people have something even if you don't agree with it cause it’s better for htem. Gamzee and Kurloz are brothers, living under one roof with no settlement of dominance...this fight was going to happen, at least with a motherfucking bunch of other highbloods watching, someone can step in if it does get ugly. You or Meulin can't do a nmotherfucking thing against two angry highbloods; don't even pretend,”

You look down. She has a point. For how tough you are, there is no way you could ver stop your Dad when he’s enraged. If he got angry and vicious enough, you’d be a grub fighting a bear.

The drive back is silent but tense. Even as you pull up to the warehouse you feel like a sense of electricity is in the air. Phaxin is outside the warehouse, the door open. He is leaning in the frame of it with his arms crossed. Thetas steps out and approaches him.

“So how motherfucking bad is it now?” she asks.

Phaxin shrugs, glancing inside, “Sizing each other up, circling...man the shit is about to blow up into a storm any second now,”

You move to peak into the warehouse. All the highbloods have scattered into a wide ring and in the middle, Gamzee and your father are snarling, baring and gnashing their teeth, and slowly circling as they trade barbed insults. It isn't pitch. There’s nothing flirty about it, and their stances are incredibly tense. Phaxin and Thetas are both silent, eyes fixed on the fight. No one is cheering or making bets. It is quiet beside the noise of the two trolls eying each other up. It seems almost sacred. It feels… _wrong_ …to ry and come between them.

They continue to circle, now just growling and hissing. Whatever period of insults they had had is now out the window. Gamzee stops and when he does, so does your father. They are staring each other down for only a few seconds before Gamzee let out a loud roar. You've never heard Gamzee roar. Growl yes but never a roar. It shakes you right down to your bone. His teeth are fully bared and for a moment, you remember that despite your teasing of him being a wimp, he _is_ a highblood. It is only your pitch that keeps him from unleashing _that_ kind of roar on you...

Your father responds in turn with a powerful roar of his own. Whatever challenge the younger Makara is issuing, your father is more or less telling him to bring it at this point. Then as if, someone gave some signal, they charge each other. You nearly leapt forward to yell at them to stop but Thetas puts her hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place.

You jump when the resounding crack of two pairs of horns crashing into each other echoes throughout the room. Then again. And again. Your father and Gamzee are crashing their horns together, clawing and snarling at each other as they start to fight. And it is a vicious fight. Cuts are being laid over each other, blood flowing, hair is flying and you swear you can see flakes coming off their horns with each hard hit. You look away. You care too much about the two of them and this seems so wrong and yet...isn't it normal for grubs and even kits to headbutt each other? Hell, sometimes even you wanted to headbutt Gamzee when he’s angry. Maybe this is... a troll thing.

A troll thing you just didn't want to accept.

Phaxin tenses and you look over again as the two combatants charge again. This time your father angles his head slightly, one horn sliding up beween Gamzee's pair of horns and he jerks his neck. One hand moves to Gamzee's left shoulder, the other to his right hip. With a roar he sends the younger Makara slamming hard into the ground. Gamzee gasps as the wind is knocked out of him and he lay prone on the floor panting. Slowly, he pushes himself up to his knees, wiping his mouth. Kurloz snorts and glares at him, daring him to get up. They continued to stare each other down again before Gamzee looks away as he gets to his feet. He shuffles away, head bowed.

The tension in the room fades. People begin to talk again. Others moved to their seats and Gamzee slinks off to a corner to lick his wounds as your father just casually wipes the blood from his lips with his tank top. He glances over at you and you flinch, looking away.

Thetas sighs and mumbles to you, “How can you help him if you can't even accept all of him, Nep?”

She’s right. He hurt you but...he's your Dad. You look up this time and meet his gaze. He's silent, as always, but he gives a faint, almost tired smile. He signs, <<LET'S GO HOME...THE JOB CAPONE HAD CAN'T BE DONE TONIGHT ANYWAYS...>>

Thetas tilts her head and loos to Phaxin, who nods, “Yeah...need some prelim info you know? The two of us along with a couple other brothers have to go down to the strip district to do a bit of hunting tonight...”

Thetas frowns, “Then let’s get it over with. I was fucking promised tonight off by Capone! This is bullshit!”

“He'll pay you double. Needs a good pair of legs working down at the brothels for info,” Phaxin comments dryly, “And you know he don't trust anyone else but you...”

Thetas's scowl darkens more, “Sure he does. I'm just a good pair of legs to him, Phaxin. Good enough to fuck, not motherfucking good enough to matesprit with...”

You look curiously at the two and open your mouth, about to ask about this Capone when your father puts a hand on your shoulder and starts to direct you to the door, <<NOT TODAY, CATNIP. DO DADDY A FAVOR AND TELL NOOK FOR BRAINS OVER THERE TO GET HIS ASS TO THE CAR.>>

He jerks his head towards where Gamzee is sulking. You chuckle. Insulting Gamzee. Yes. That is something you can _definitely_ do.

You turn towards Gamzee, grinning, “Hey clown! Time to go if you want to get your nook lapped by Tavros!”

Gamzee snarls, baring his teeth in a very unpleasant way. Your grin immediately fades. That… _isn't_ the reaction you want. A glare from your father has him back down though and skulk after the two of you to the car. You feel a bit on edge as you get in the front seat of the hovertruck with your Dad as Gamzee slides into the back. It is just a bit of pitching but he...took it wrong. He's never been that upset about a comment about Tavros eating his nook out. Just because he got his ass handed to him by your father didn't mean he had to take it out on everyone.

As soon as you get home, Gamzee is quick to run off and...after watching your father more or less walk in and in response to Meulin's angry retorts, kiss her heatedly on the lips, you decide that you also want to be anywhere but in the trailer. You quickly leave and look about. You wonder if Terezi is up to anything as she is your new neighbor. You smile. Might as well go make friendly with the new neighbor now.


	2. (Do Not) Go Gently

**== >Be Nepeta a few days later**

  
You chilled out with Terezi for a few days now, the two of you becoming fast friends as your father is in and out. Your mother was more or less happy but Gamzee was becoming more of a pain to deal with. You've even stopped making fun of him after he nearly bit you in anger. All your chats with Terezi though are why you are sitting here…on the toilet…waiting for the results of your pregnancy test with baited breath. You’ve been sleeping with Gamzee a lot without protection (which is pretty fucking stupid of you now that you admit it). You hadn’t felt queasy, although your apetite’s doubled. Terezi suggested that you at least make sure and gave you a few spares she from the set she bought.

You are praying for black.

The test is giving you a red heart.

Positive.

No.

Oh no…

Your father is going to flip. Your mother is probably going to be stuck somewhere between all-consuming rage and delight at having grandgrubs. But not like you can hide this, not from _your_ father. Give it a few more weeks and he’d figure it out. Your father was always good at knowing your secrets.

You take a deep breath. Mom is at work. Dad is watching TV. You could confess to him now and then have him tell (and calm down) Mom.

Maybe.

You open the bathroom door and sidle down the hall into the living room, putting on your cutest face.  
  
“Dad? I got something to tell you...” you say.  
  
He looks over from the TV, arching an eyebrow, <<WHAT IS IT...?>>  
  
Before you can say a word, there is frantic knocking at the door. Even as your father gets to his feet in alarm, the door bursts open and Phaxin comes in, panting hard. Sweat runs down his face.

“Fu-fuck Kurloz! _Ambush_!” Phaxin pants, “Fuckin’ UBK! All of them...didn't even _see_!”

The look on your father’s face darkens and he quickly put his hands on Phaxin's shoulders to steady the other before signing <<WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?>>

Phaxin takes a deep breath, still trembling.

“Fuckin’...we were just at the joint, Chumhandle's, you know that little restaurant with the quadruple strawberry sundae and... _fuck_...UBK drove by, shot it all to hell...I was behind the jukebox, took most of the damage but the others... _oh_ _fuck_ the others...!”

Phaxin is trembling now, a choked sob in his voice.

<<PHAXIN....CALM DOWN!>> your father signs, pulling his friend to the couch to sit.

You rush to the kitchen to get one of the soda Faygos out of the fridge for him. He is still shaking, tears in his eyes, babbling now.

“Little Jasixe...he was motherfuckin’ just turnin’ _eight_...he and his Daddy both are _dead_! And Chuckles....he didn't fuckin’ stand a chance and oh gods... _Thetas_...! Her little ones...who the fuck is gonna to tell them their mama ain't comin’ home anymore!? We weren't even on a job...not even on a fuckin’ _job_...! “

Your blood goes cold. As your father works to calm his friend down, you put the bottle of Faygo on the side table and slowly turn to walk back to your room. You close your door and sit on your daybed, staring off. His words ring in your head.

_“Who the fuck is going to tell them their mama ain't coming home...”_

You look down and put a hand over your stomach. You had a little grub now on the way. No way to deny that. But...you would have to take care of it and be responsible. You are sure your mother and father will help you with it and even Gamzee would too. But what if you did continue being a criminal to pay the bills and got hurt or put in jail?

_“Who the fuck is going to them their mama ain't coming home...”_

You shiver and curl up more, biting your lip. Your father is a criminal. So is Gamzee. They are going to get hurt too...

_“Who the fuck is going to tell Nepeta...her father ain't coming home...”_

And that is when you silently let the tears fall. Your father could be the next one dead. You could be the one getting the news of a dead family member.

You curl up into a tight ball.

You still got so much growing up to do...

* * *

 

You've been to a funeral before. You went to your Grandma Leijon’s funeral when you were small, which was a Traditional Alternian one. You were expecting the same sort of funeral for Thetas. You, your father, and Gamzee got dressed up and went not the graveyard, but to a little private spit of land that overlooks New Jack. Its an hour away from where you live.  

Thetas's body is dressed in what looked like bright purple pajamas with a crescent moon symbol on the chest. She's laid out on a stone slab. A priest dressed in similar clothes but of an olive green color is there. You're confused as to what's going on and your father explains how Thetas _wasn't_ a devotee of the traditional Alternian gods but of The Church to Ascension, which many called it the Church of Hussie, nicknamed after its central mythological figure, the Hussie. Sometimes Santa Hussie is used interchangeably among its followers. 

You don't get much explanation though; seems your father doesn't know much about it either outside of the basics. Hussites (as they were also called) didn't believe in traditional gods but believe they were their own gods and upon death would ascend to 'god tier'. 

You blink your eyes to keep from crying. Phaxin, keeps pushing his glasses up, clearly trying not to cry as well.

The priest clears his throat and begins the Ceremony of Passing for those who were part of the Church of Ascension. He says solemnly,

“And now, upon your god bed, rest dearest, Sister Thetas of Blood, and go now and ascend into the next world. Watch over your family, friends, and hated rivals and guide them. Go now, with the Hussie to the next world and do battle with the foes of god.”

Then, with great care, the body of Thetas is lit on fire. You wait for the body to burn to nothing but ashes that were collected into a small urn by the priest. It would be buried in the clustered Graveyard of the Ascended with their tall, thin, grave markers. You are silent through the procedure.

Phaxin wipes his eye, taking off his glasses to reveal his solid purple eyes. “Man... it don't feel right without Thetas here. Gonna to miss her. All us brothers are...’cept fuckin’ _Capone_...”

Kurloz is silent but you look at Phaxin. “...thought Capone was your boss?” you ask. 

“He is but the motherfucker...he likes to think he's better than everyone some times. He took in Achile but shipped off Hector to his Daddy...” Phaxin grumbles with a frown, “That ain't right, but what Capone wants he gets. Guess he feels some motherfuckin’ obligation to care for his fucking bulgespawn now that his Momma’s gone.”

You remember Thetas's comment about being good enough to fuck but not good enough to matesprit and you frown. You look over to where Achile is standing, crying softly, and holding the hand of a richly dressed purpleblood, who despite this being a funera—looked at peace, calm, and unbothered by anything. His hair is neatly slicked back and he wears a nice white suit. He is checking his watch before giving a nod to some of those around him. He pardons himself from the ritual, taking the kit with him. Something about the man you didn't like. One by one the others leave until only a few people are left.

Kurloz puts a hand on your shoulder lightly and you look up. He gives you a faint, sad and tired smile, <<LET'S GO HOME CATNIP.>>

You nod, “Yeah...Mom is getting tacos for once tonight...”  
  
Kurloz winces, <<DID SHE BUY THE CARLOS MARACAS BRAND TACOS...?>>

You smile slightly as you head back to the car with him, Gamzee silently trails behind you, “Of course. Highblood Carlos's tacos are muy bieno senor!”

Kurloz rolls his eyes, <<I HATE THAT BRAND...EVERYONE FUCKING THINKS I'M SENOR CARLOS MARAKA THE TACO TROLL...>>

You giggle a bit, “All you need is the mustache, Dad!”  
  
Its been so long since the two of you joked around like this. It had been a miserable few days as you prepared for the funeral. You need a laugh, even if its a small one.

<<DON'T START. I HAD THE POLICE SHOW UP CLAIMING I WAS SUBMITTING MY TAXES UNDER THE ALBI OF CARLOS MARACAS AND WAS TAX DODGING. TOOK FUCKING HOURS TO EXPLAIN TO THEM MY NAME IS KURLOZ MAKARA, NOT CARLOS MARACAS THE TACO TROLL!>> your father huffs, scowling more.

You smile as you get into the truck, “Or the time that housewife wanted to take a picture with you and have you autograph it because she thought Senor Carlos Maracas was so sexy?”

Kurloz shudders, <<HAPPENS MORE OFTEN THAN I LIKE HONESTLY...>>

As you drive back to the trailer, Gamzee flops out on the backseat to nap. You look at your father. He's still alive but he's in crime. How long before you have to go to another funeral? His funeral? Or Gamzee's funeral? You bite your lip and look ahead.

What if they have to go to your own?

No.

You aren't going to stay in crime.

If this isn't an eye opener, you don't know what is. You got a child of your own on the way and you aren't going to lose your family. Somehow you, Nepeta Leijon, are going to protect your family. You smile, feeling more confident now, more your own independent troll.

You aren't going to just sit back. You are going to do something. You just got to figure out what. 


End file.
